


Quarter After One

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Slash, post-season 5 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3886945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events at the cemetery, Dean held up his promise to Sam that he'd go live a normal apple pie life with Lisa and Ben, away from the monsters and the demons. But six months later, Dean still wasn't sure "normal" was what he really needed. </p><p>It was always on the quiet nights that his thoughts reminded him exactly what - <em>who</em> - it should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quarter After One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Need You Now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eM213aMKTHg) by Lady Antebellum. 
> 
> This follows canon up to the season 5 finale and then diverges into an AU. While it's not overly relevant to this particular one-shot, assume that Cas pulled Sam out of the Cage with his soul intact, Sam decided to continue hunting by himself to give Dean a chance at a normal life, and Cas was not working with Crowley to find Purgatory, instead looking into other means of defeating Raphael. 
> 
> The italicized bits are quoted directly from the finale episode, with a little of my own interpretations.

  
It was nights like these, when the wind was just barely brushing against the house and the only noises were the crickets in the bushes, that Dean found it hardest to sleep.

Lying in bed, Lisa's warm body curled against him, Dean could only stare up at the ceiling. He watched as the light from the streetlamp danced through the curtains and over the walls, every now and again travelling across the room as a car passed by. The ticking alarm clock — reading almost quarter-to-one — accompanied his and Lisa's steady breathing, filling the quiet of the room.

It was nights like these, when Dean found it hardest to sleep, that his mind let him know exactly why he couldn't fall into his dreams.

Why he didn't  _want_  to.

 

_"What are you gonna do now?" Dean asked, looking over at Cas. The angel sat straight but content, pristine as ever in his stupidly tacky and familiar trench coat. It was hard to believe that just that afternoon he'd been… He'd been…_

_The radio was off, silence sitting heavy in the Impala as more road was put behind them, taking them farther and farther from the cemetery where everything had ended._

_Dean swallowed hard, pushing the images down into the deepest part of his mind he had. Images of his brother jumping into the dark, gaping hole that led back to the Cage, pulling Michael — in their_ half-brother _, dammit — with him, of Cas' insides erupting right in front of him, the sound of Bobby's neck snapping as Lucifer twisted Sam's hand. He returned his eyes to the wet pavement of the highway._

_"Return to Heaven, I suppose," the angel replied after a pause._

_Dean scoffed, glancing back at him with an eyebrow raised. "Heaven?"_

_"With Michael in the Cage, I'm sure it's total anarchy up there," Cas elaborated, voice even and smooth, like always._

_Dean huffed, lips quirking slightly as he asked, "So, what, you're the new sheriff in town?"_

_Cas' lips quirked too, and he chuckled softly, eyes meeting Dean's before looking ahead to the road again. "I like that, yeah. I suppose I am."_

 

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out.

Two more heartbeats and Dean gently slid his arm out from around Lisa, sitting up carefully and setting his feet on the chilled wood floor. He shivered, running a hand over his face and exhaling a long, deep breath. He looked back at the sleeping form of the woman beside him for another breath, and then pushed himself up from the bed. Quietly, he padded to the door and slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

He silently made his way down the hall and stairs, passing Ben's room with a glance in to see the kid sleeping deeply. He could hear the ticking of the clock in the living room as he moved around in the dark, the light of the moon not enough to illuminate anything other than vague furniture-looking shapes. He moved around the dining table, remembering to move to the left a second sooner than what felt natural because damn, his shins did not need the abuse.

The tiles were cold against his bare feet as he entered the kitchen, heading for the fridge. The light blinded him for half a second, his eyes squinting before they adjusted, and he leaned over to grab one of the cans of beer, but hesitated.

No. He shut the fridge, instead heading to the cabinets.

Tonight he needed something stronger.

 

_Dean chuckled too, but there wasn't any humor, no amusement in it. It was bitter. "Wow, God gives you a brand-new shiny set of wings and suddenly you're his bitch again." His voice was hard at the end, accusing._

_"I don't know what God wants," Cas replied, sounding exasperated. Or as exasperated as Cas could ever sound. "I don't know if He'll even return. It just…" He took a breath. "… seems like the right thing to do."_

_"Well, if you do see Him," Dean snapped, fighting to keep the anger inside him from erupting even further, "you tell Him I'm comin' for Him next."_

_Dean felt Cas' eyes on him, those deep, soul-gazing blue eyes that held so much knowledge and yet had so many questions, and he turned his head to meet them._

_There was silence between them, just staring. Dean wanted to look away, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away from those eyes. Blue,_ so _blue, with the power of a storm hidden behind them. His heart beat faster, and his blood rushed hot in his veins, and Dean knew he never wanted to look away from those eyes again, from blue that was calm, soothing; that was a tempest and a hurricane and rolling ocean waves; that was the rain that brought redemption, washing everything away._

_And it was all in Cas' eyes._

_Cas broke their standoff first. "You're angry."_

_Dean opened his mouth, no sound coming out, turning away again. That was such a Cas thing, to state the friggin' obvious. He wasn't sure whether to smile or scream. Instead, he bottled up his thoughts, tucking the image of those eyes, that color, away tightly, and settled for saying, "That's an understatement."_

_"He helped," Cas countered, and Dean scoffed. "Maybe even more than we realize."_

_"Well, that's easy for you to say." Dean rolled his eyes, sneering at the angel. "He brought you back. But what about Sam? What about me, huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole." The anger pushed again, wanting him to break something, to hurt something as much as he was hurting then._

_Cas just looked at him, and Dean turned back to the road._

 

As Dean stepped out onto the front porch, he inhaled deeply, letting the soft smell of the night air wash over him. A gentle breeze brushed against his skin as he downed a shot of whiskey from the glass in his hand. Licking his lips, he poured another couple of fingers from the bottle he'd taken with him before leaning against the wooden support.

The sky was filled with stars and free of obscuring clouds. Everything seemed to glow in the low light of the moon, shimmering with the recent rain and smelling fresh, clean. He could see beading drops of water left over on the grass that needed mowing.

It was quiet, though, always so goddamn quiet. He tossed back another shot and set the glass aside on the rail, downing another swig straight from the bottle.

His thoughts were always loudest in the quiet, and Dean couldn't ever seem to get them to shut up. He tilted his head back, feeling the wind against his face as he closed his eyes and told himself to breathe.

He wasn't sure he could face the realization he'd come to just yet.

He never seemed to be drunk enough.

 

_"You got what you asked for, Dean," Cas finally said, tone short. "No paradise. No Hell. Just more of the same."_

_Dean just sat, unwilling — unable — to say anything._

_"I mean it, Dean," Cas continued, and Dean could hear honest curiosity under his irritation. "What would you rather have? Peace? Or freedom?"_

_Dean glanced over, an answer or some other argument on his tongue, or maybe not, he wasn't sure, but the angel was gone, not even the sound of his wings as he departed. His chest ached, his fingers tightening on the wheel before relaxing, and his jaw clenched as he glanced back out into the night, wet highway flying by._

_"You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?" he muttered, shaking his head, and he bit his lip to hold back tears._

_Sammy was gone._

_Cas was gone._

_Everyone was gone._

_Everyone left him. Everyone always left him._

_And Dean let himself cry._

 

The bottle was almost empty; it hung limply from Dean's fingers as he stared out into the night sky, watching the stars like he used to do with Sammy and— His mind was hazy, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through his limbs as he slid to sit down on the porch with a shaky breath.

God, why did everything have to hurt so much? After everything he'd been through, everything he'd done for the world, why did it all still hurt? Dean scoffed to himself, taking another swig of whiskey.  _You'd think I'd eventually get used to it_ , he thought derisively.  _You'd think maybe, this time, it won't rip me apart inside; maybe I'll be able to sleep tonight. But no._

Dean glanced up at the stars above him, eyes searching through the endless blackness for that something he was always looking for. With the whiskey in his blood, Dean found the courage to put a name to it.

"Why does it hurt so much, Cas?" he said softly, voice cracking slightly. "After all that I've done for this shithole of a world, the saving people, the killing things, going to friggin' Hell for my brother—" He let out a hysterical laugh, bringing the bottle back to his lips and taking a long pull.

He sat quietly for a moment, listening to the ragged breaths falling from his lips. He barely felt the slow slip of a tear down his cheek.

"I miss him so much, Cas," he finally continued. The breeze blew against him, like a comforting hand. "I miss him so goddamn much, and all I can think about is that I failed him. There was another way, and I just didn't look hard enough. I failed him, and I failed you."

It was that thought that hurt the most. He swallowed heavily, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as the desert despite all the whiskey he could taste lingering on his tongue. "I'm sorry, Cas," he breathed lowly, and this time when he looked up at the stars, he imagined Cas up there in them. "I'm a fucking mess. It always fucking hurts, and I just don't know what to do anymore. I've tried with Lisa and Ben, I have, but— There's this hole in me and I can't figure out how to fill it. I need…"  _You,_  he thought, but the word caught in his throat.

He wasn't sure he was ready to admit that. He could deal with missing Sammy — hell, it was expected — but missing Cas… God, he missed Cas more than he knew he should. He  _knew_  he should be focusing on Lisa and Ben, on making his life with them like he'd promised Sammy. He  _knew_  he should be grateful that they'd managed to save the goddamn world from the Apocalypse it didn't even know had been averted, moving on and being happy where he was.

And yet, next to Sam, all he could do was think of Cas, wondering if he was alright and how things up in Heaven were going now that Michael was out of the picture and God had yet to renounce His status as Deadbeat Dad of the Year. Missing him and forgetting that he wouldn't be just popping in whenever, because they'd gone their separate ways. His thoughts were a constant loop of  _Cas, Cas, Cas._

Dean sighed, a sorry-sounding chuckle escaping him as he leaned against the porch supports. He took another swig from the whiskey, letting it burn down his throat.

 _What would you rather have?_  Cas' words played back in his mind, always echoing.  _Peace? Or freedom?_

Was there really an answer?

Finishing the bottle, Dean pushed himself shakily to his feet, staggering slightly as he tipped against the porch rails. "I think I have my answer, Cas," he said to the sky. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"It's about one-fifteen in the morning and I am drunk as hell, but I know this: I'm not cut out for suburban life. Lisa and Ben deserve better than I can give them, and I should be out there, hunting down the sons of bitches that threaten their peaceful lives. I'd rather be out there, Cas. I'd rather have  _you,_  and fuck all the rest."

He paused for a beat, letting his resolve settle. "I need  _you,_  Cas. I need you now."

A sound he never thought he'd hear again broke the silence of the night, just briefly, and Dean opened his eyes to see that familiar, calm blue that held the power of a coming storm barely a breath in front of him. Dean could taste the hint of ozone on his lips.

It was silent for another heartbeat.

"Hello, Dean."

And Dean smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [leviathncas](http://leviathncas.tumblr.com)


End file.
